Losing My Mind
by CryingRainbows
Summary: How Clint felt when he was being possesed by Loki. Critiques Requested. T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

_"Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none." - Shakspeare_

He was studying the dysfunctional and thrashing Tesseract when Director Fury walked in. Watching as Fury met up with one of the scientists.

The scientist had no doubt made a snide remark; none of them really understood what he did or who he was.

Fury had obviously been looking for him then, when the director quickly paced towards Clint while looking up nearly the whole time.

Clint neatly slid down a wire to meet his steps. There was no introduction and no formalities. Fury had always thought it was an unnecessary waste of time.

"Bad reputation," Fury commented nonchalantly.

The Hawk raised an eyebrow, "No shit."

"So, how are things looking?"

Clint began to explain the situation, the whole while stepping towards the Tesseract.

The director had a surprised look on his face when Clint hinted about it being a doorway. "What do you mean?" he questioned suspiciously.

"Obviously, someone is trying to get through. That'll take a bit of power and that's why the thing is acting the way it is.

"Who's trying to get through?"

Suddenly, the Tesseract shot a fiery blue beam across the lab, heating the sensors.

A form was beginning to materialize when Barton had to look away from the insanely bright light. Recovering, he looked back.

A young man, about twenty, stepped off the platform wearing golden armor and a helmet with ram's horns that protruded from the front. In his hand was a glowing scythe overlaid with jewels and other metals. He was pale with dark hair and eyes. Cold, calculating eyes. This man was not a friend, and that was the most obvious thing he could tell. But he noticed, as the man walked closer, that he was older than what his appearance portrayed, and also was craving revenge. As the man walked closer, guards began to block his way. He regarded them as dirt, merely pushing them out of the way. Obviously this man was self-obsessed and considered himself king of the mountain. He was sane, interestingly enough, you could tell by his stares and how he walked. A bit outdated, to underestimate. He was dressed like he was from medieval times. The man's gaze flickered towards what was most likely his ultimate goal: the Tesseract.

Clint made a mental note to make sure he didn't reach it.

Suddenly, Fury, the stupid man, pulled out his handgun and aimed at the medieval man.

He just barely smiled as he quickly shoved the director out of the way. Then he looked at Barton.

If looks could kill, Clint would be dead. But it wasn't a cruel, unhappy stare. It had intent, evil intent. That intent worried Barton, and he was never worried.

He grinned rather evilly, and finally reached the Hawk's location, gloating outwardly the entire way.

Before he could even move, the man had his scepter up to his chest in a flash quicker than lightning. Then, slowly and dramatically, he let the blade fall to Hawkeye's heart.

**Hi, long time no write. I know, it's awful, but I just recently took up writing again. So review and tell me what to fix?**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." - Friedrich Nietzsche_

Searing pain flashed through his mind. What was mere seconds felt like hours.

The scepter pierced his very soul, the only raw spot a human contains. It's the one part that cannot be toughened. The pain was like a curved knife plunged into his chest, it twisting and being jerked around. It was as if someone had set fire to his brain after pouring gasoline over it. As if he was breathing under water. A sumo wrestler sat on his chest. Like a black widow bite. The mamba sinking its fangs into his head. All of these combined just barely describe the pain he was experiencing.

The man that had approached him intruded on his brain, his soul.

His entire being was fading, disintegrating.

The man was called Loki. He was an Asgardian, a god. And like Hell he wants revenge.

Clint began to hit the brink of sanity. Loki was pushing him over the edge, almost literally.

He could hear many voices, all yelling at him, telling him to push back, and not to fall to this Loki.

Few faces were even vaguely familiar. But somehow they all knew him. All of them, trying to convince him to put up a fight. However, something about this Loki had put that resistance to sleep.

Flashes of what Clint assumed were memories flew by, but it was hard to recognize them. A black bow with thin arrows. A woman with red hair in an all-black leotard. A dark room. Tears. A hand. Betrayal.

Right then, Loki decided to take full control, pulling his conscience away from the horrors and condemning it to a pit of seemingly endless darkness.

**Even worse, I know. Hilariously short, but I can't add anymore, lest the story be ruined. **


End file.
